


Tinkers and Toymakers

by terryreviews



Series: Bofur's Romances [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Eventual Relationships, First Time, Love, M/M, Making Love, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is a self-reliant hobbit thank you very much. He may not be as strong as Dori, or as intimidating as Dwalin, or even as clever a thief as Nori, but he did just fine on his own. At least he seemed to think so. But what did they expect from him right out of the gate? A wizard-strengthed hobbit? He knew he was not what they expected, or even wanted. Especially Thorin, and he did not need to be reminded of it with every hitch, every mistake in the road he made. And what is worse? The patronizing aid. Bofur especially being overly helpful, overly caring at times for him when all he wanted was to prove he didn't need their coddling.  But what if it was a mistake on his part to jump to conclusions about Bofur's actions? He could just be friendly, he was friendly. One of the few he could say with certainty would miss him if he left. Not because he was their burglar, but because they were friends.</p><p>Bofur enjoyed the simple halfling's company. And as when most strangers meet, it was not all pleasantries and easy going. But they started getting along and he felt rather fond and protective. Then it grew. Well, one thing for it that was for sure. To court another, one must make all efforts to their safety and comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ajir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajir/gifts).



> The prompt I was given was about dwarf courting. Being helpful and aiding another is a sign of how a dwarf feelings about you. So I started with this. It was originally going to be a one shot, but I've decided to change it into a multi-chaptered piece. Hopefully the requester will enjoy it.
> 
> I have to admit I took flourishes from inside my own head plus ideas/concepts I've seen online about how Bofur may or may not have been raised. In my mind, the dwarves lived inside the Blue Mountains, in a decent kingdom (not the splendor of Erebor but well off) and surrounding that mountain too were villages of men. In Erebor, Bofur had no need to travel all that much/interact that much with Man folk. But with the displacement of his people, it forced much more personal interaction as they had to rely on the pity of the Man folk in a number of cases to aid them in their survival.

As far as first kisses went, Bofur had been the first for a number of dwarves (and a few humans too at that) back where he came from. Shyness was Bofur’s specialty. He found it adorable, the shocked and honest reactions shy folk had. A giggle hastily hidden by a cupped hand or a grinning look away when he winked or made a _suggestion._ This kind of charm had earned him a warm bed and customers for his and his family’s toys and wares.

            If he had to guess _why_ he had this gift he would think it was his gentle persistence and patience (and he wasn’t too ugly if he said so himself) that drew people out. He had intuition when to pull back and draw closer to a person when they needed it And Bilbo needed it.

            Poor little halfling sat outside the rest of them, didn’t participate in the conversations around the fires, probably felt weak and helpless. Lost he was with his innocent eyes and sheltered life. Bofur never had seen these traits as a problem before. The world could always use gentle folk, not warriors like himself. Or at least warriors who could be gentle; _that_ was like himself. Come to think of it, it was like a lot of his kin. He looked round the encampment to find all the lads eating, laughing, telling stories or listening to them. He couldn’t help a fondness for his brother in particular telling stories of some of the lads and lasses back home who would miss his rotund warmth for a while. Not to mention some of his finer cooking he made before, during and after. He laughed to himself at that. But where was Bilbo?

            Ah, there, sitting by his lonesome. That wouldn’t do. After moving the stew off the fire to ensure no burnt bits on the bottom for Bombur to yell at him for later nor an over boiling pot. If there were any left overs Bombur could easily handle it. Wiping his hands on his coat he headed over to the halfling who was now drinking from his water skin while putting down his bowl.

Bofur sat down next to the hobbit, enjoying the little start the smaller one gave, “Good evening Bilbo.”

“Oh…good evening Bofur.” His barely there, polite smile formed on his lips. Now that Bofur got a good look at him the poor fellow looked a bit run down and pale. His nice waist coat a bit duller in the color and the hair on his feet less curled and fuzzed.

            To be honest, it was refreshing to find a dwarf who knew the intent by a Good Evening and even greeted him with it without a whole speech about what it could mean or how many meanings it should have. Bofur, now that Bilbo had a chance to think about it, despite his teasing and rough dwarvish nature, he was one of the few in the company that paid him any attention. This particular night he had just finished his dinner and he began to drink some of the water he had been forced to ration. Thankfully there was a stream nearby that they could get water from so he would be able to enjoy a full on drink tonight, Bofur next to him.

“So, what are you up to then? Thinking to yourself?”

“Yes. A bit.”

“Anyone interesting?”

“Beg pardon?”

Bofur grinned at that, the hobbit _heard_ , not looking at the hobbit but instead lighting his pipe, “Anyone interesting that you’re thinking about? Myself, I was thinking about the first woman I made love to after Bifur, Bombur and I made our shop and stand up in the Blue Mountain villages after we got the boot from Erebor.”

Bilbo’s cheeks tinged and his mouth fell open, “What?”

“Oh she was a cute little thing. One of the man folk; young she was. At least I think so. She was an adult of course but with humans being so short lived and all it is all in speculative or something or other about maturity. But yeah, she was in her 30s. Did things with her tongue that made my fall back and groan. I’ve been a lot of firsts for folk but that night she’d given me my own.”

Bilbo interrupted before details could be given, “Uh…I suppose. By human standards. But yes, young.”

Not frustrated by the interruption Bofur turned a question to his companion, “so how old are you then?”

Hesitantly Bilbo cleared his throat and said “Fifty.”

“Decent enough.” Bofur nodded, “adult anyways.”

“And you?” He ask as he began to put the water back to his lips.

“100.”

Bilbo spit out his water.

“I guess dwarves live a long time.”

“Few hundred years if we’re lucky enough to not get killed before then. Can up to…200, maybe 250 or so.” Bofur began taking deep puffs getting smoke to fly into the air. Then only the weight of the sentence hung in the air. _Lucky enough to not get killed_. Bilbo had no cause to dwell on such a thought before.

             In the shire, one could hope to live until 120 or so in relative comfort and with no danger beyond a splinter or mild cold. 100, typically, was the limit, but a fair few hobbits got up to 120. Here was a dwarf that had lived through a dragon attack, battles/wars with orcs, the displacement of his people and home, and whom had a high chance of dying before he was all that old. Well old by his people’s reckon. Regardless, Bilbo hadn’t given it thought but dwarves were often killed before their prime with accidents, weariness of travel, illness, and attacks in the wild. And even if they weren’t killed, they’d been reduced from having a home, or careers, to camping and mild, low paying jobs until they did eventually die. It was… _sad_. It hit the hobbit then, it was sad what happened to these dwarves.          And here was Bofur, smoking, making conversation as if things were all fine and dandy. How could this particular dwarf always be smiling and joking?

“Never did answer me about who you were thinking on.”

“Oh uh, nobody. I wasn’t thinking of anyone.”

“Hm…maybe I should finish my story and _give_ you someone…or someones in my case, to think on. Might help you get through some of the homesick nights.”

Bilbo outright blushed! Finally, some color in those pale cheeks, “I don’t know what you’re implying but I never…”

“Never? That’s a shame. It’s quite fun and feels pretty good. And like croquet requires balls.” Bofur allowed himself a good laugh at the look on Bilbo’s face. The fact that Bilbo seemed to try and hide his own laugh made it all the better.

“Are dwarves always so… _casual_ with this type of topic?” Bilbo asked, touch of sternness, propriety.

“Aye. We don’t fancy being too subtle.” Bofur said wiping the tears out of his eyes after he finished his laugh fit.

“…very different from home.” Bilbo pondered as he too began to pull from his little bag, a pipe.

Bofur looked ahead of him at the night, “Oh?”

“Yes,” Bilbo began patting down his bag and pockets with a tight frown, “we tend to…oh dash it.”

Bofur’s eyes slanted towards the halfling, “something wrong Bilbo?”

“Can’t seem to find my weed. I could have sworn it was in the front pocket of my bag.” As if to confirm it missing he triple checked the empty compartment pulling out string.

“Would you like some of mine?” Bofur said with a quirked smile at the scene of Bilbo tearing through his bag. At the offer Bilbo politely waved a hand.

“Oh thank you but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to leave you short.”

“It wouldn’t. I packed a _lot_ before leaving.” As if to demonstrate, he lifted one of the pouches from his belt. “I only smoke a pipe a day and only need a little bit. But I’d be glad to share. Bifur doesn’t smoke or Bombur for that matter. It would be nice to share with someone.” Bofur still had that look of amusement on his face. Bilbo paused, looking at that rather _full_ pouch, and it wouldn’t be impolite to refuse if Bofur was _offering_ and he _did_ say he wanted to have someone to smoke with, “I would appreciate it very much.”

With that, Bofur offered his open pouch to the hobbit’s fingers. Until time to go to bed, the two smoked together with occasional snips of idle chat between them. Unfortunately Bofur never got to hear how hobbits differed in talk of sex, Bilbo seemed to have “forgotten” and the dwarf didn’t want to push him. Even if that touch of pink rosing the hobbit’s cheeks made him grin.

That did not mean Bofur forgot. When he got the chance to walk or ride beside Bilbo, he took it. And when the camp had settled, he often found a sleepless hobbit in need of reassurance to his unspoken but obvious concerns. Partially why he offered his weed and company. He knew his friendly nature and open ear welcomed the hobbit into the party enough to ground him. Having not forgotten their first conversation, he would sometimes tease Bilbo with hints of bed play and even mild flirtation of how he could _demonstrate_ sometime how dwarves were _not_ subtle.

Once, when they were having a smoke, Bilbo finally opened up on how hobbits, while some were bold enough to come out and say what they wanted to whomever, most were not. When courting someone, one usually had to have known them for at least a decent number of years. Then when the initial interest was shown, it was done with little things. Compliments on the intendeds appearance, offering aid with their chores or work, visiting for afternoon tea at one’s home, dancing with that one first and last.

“If those are the rules to getting someone on their back,” Bofur tried not to laugh at the squawk Bilbo made, “then if you’re doing it, wouldn’t it be obvious?”

“No, not really. We do those types of things all the time.”

“So, hobbits treat their intended like they treat everyone else?”

Bilbo pondered, “Yes, I suppose we do.”

“So what usually changes it?” Bofur gestured with his pipe.

“I think…I think it is when one asks for a kiss.” 

“A kiss?”

“Yes. We usually ask for a kiss when we feel that we’ve spent enough time in the company of the other and that they are comfortable with us. After that, we then start with more intimate dates. Holding hands, private dinners, being each others’ one and only companion for a party.”

“You hobbits really are a gentle folk.” Bofur chuckled with a shake of the head.

“What do dwarves do?”

“Well,” Bofur finished his pipe and tapped the ashes out, “we tend to know the one for a while like you do. But, it usually is someone we work with. Someone we fight with too. That’s usually how we meet others. Working with them. We share our experiences with others day in and out. It is what we do all day, might as well be with someone who knows what you go through and appreciates it. And key to us, if it is someone you can share a good meal and drink with.”

“But how do you initiate though?”

“We notice something we like in them. If it starts with their looks, that’s okay. We start talking to them as we work, we offer them a drink, and we openly flirt with them. Invite them to our place and have sex after we’re used to each other. It doesn’t take so much really. Few years if we want to take it slow. But dwarves, we’re open to multiple partners.” He had to take a moment to pat Bilbo’s back as the other coughed and choked.

“Multiple partners? With hobbits, we tend to…experiment _lightly_ with kisses and touches before maturity, but…” and this he actually whispered, “sex, we save for a partner we’ve settled on.”

“And you’re a bachelor right?” Bofur had not realized until Bilbo bristled a bit in the corner of his eye that he might’ve wanted to use some tact.

“…yes I am.”

Gentler this time, “That’s why you haven’t thought about someone?”

Bilbo snapped, “It isn’t that I _haven’t_ thought of someone. I’m not made of stone. It is just…I don’t…I don’t want to share my home with anyone.” he nodded curtly and continued, “I haven’t found anyone in the Shire I would want to share _myself_ with.” There was some reserve in the voice that Bofur caught on, perceptive like that. Bilbo danced around the meaning of his words. Narrowing his eyes, Bofur blew a smoke ring.

“Shame. You’re awful cute.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened, but being the polite hobbit he was he could only sputter, “Uh, thank you Bofur. You…are a handsome dwarf.”

Bofur chuckled,“thank you.”

 

The nights were decent enough. Snoring, cool air, hard ground, but naturally that is what he had come to expect. Sometimes empty bellies grumbled as they settled into their bed rolls. They still had their tins and small jars of food but nothing substantial for their appetites. Particularly the hobbit. Dwarves could devour a feast, several large plates and just as many pints. But Bilbo, who was used to over 6 meals a day, felt the groan in his guts harsher than he was willing to admit. They already saw him as weak, but if Bombur could keep quiet of his obvious hunger (the dwarf’s stomach growled loud in the night) Bilbo could stay silent. Kili and Fili more than often were sent to procure hares, squirrels, birds when they could. Bofur and Bombur tended to gather water and look for plants they knew could be added to fill their stomachs. Dwarves weren’t fond of greenery, but that didn’t mean a number of them didn’t eat it. Bilbo tended to carry things, small things to and fro if they asked it of him. Balin was kind enough to give the hobbit tasks to keep him included. Balin, Bofur had always thought so, was a kind dwarf. Amiable to those around and open to discussions with those not of their kind. Even with elves Bofur thought, Balin could negotiate peacefully. He was a tired warrior, worried about the prince he’d known for so long, craving peace. And Bofur was grateful for his kindness for Bilbo needed more than one friend on this journey. Not that he minded being the one to capture and hold Bilbo’s attention all to himself, but it was nice to see Bilbo at least feel that more than one of them cared about his well being.

“Some real meat in this one tonight.” Bilbo said to Bofur when the dwarf settled next to him on the log round the fire. Like himself, Bofur’s mouth bulged with food. An unhobbit thing to do, speak with his mouth full. Meant he was feeling relaxed. _Good,_ that shyness around him was still there, but now his friend eased into conversation and lack of manners to boot!

With a partial swallow Bofur agreed, “Aye, the lads outdid themselves. Four hairs and two squirrels. Bombur even found some garlic at the bottom his pack that hadn’t been used yet. Gives it a bit of flavor this time around. Not that he didn’t use spices before, but we haven’t had garlic in a long while. It was one of our favorite things that our mother use to cook our meat in.” Bofur noticed that his and Bilbo’s sides pressed against each other’s, mainly their legs. The furry foot against his boot _nearly_ as large. Hobbit feet, amazing. His feet were large to support his heavy body. But Bilbo’s feet were jaw dropping. Massive, thick soled things they were with this wonderful hair atop that a dwarf would’ve been proud to have on their body. Even as un-kept as it was with the less curls, the mild dirt gathered in it. Briefly he wondered if Bilbo would let him touch them and grinned to himself imagining a startled reaction if he were to place a kiss to the top. Mahal, what had possessed him to that thought?

“Your mother?” Bilbo asked once his mouth full sent down his throat.

Bofur sipped at the broth under the meat. “Aye. Wonderful woman. Made us feel warm and cozy when we got home every night. Lots of food and songs.” It helped his heart to think of his mother. Had a nice brown beard and just a wide a smile.

“She uh…”

“She died in the attack. The only blessing was that she and father were already old enough to make the loss less tragic.” Bilbo shrank in his seat. From the corner of his gaze Bofur said, “Not to worry though. It happened a long time ago now. Its alright now. I got Bifir and Bombur and that’s enough. Bifir took care of me too you know. Used to bring me around as a lad to the towns and to his workshop. Taught me to whittle.”

The change of topic made the hobbit grow a bit, “Oh? Bifir taught you to whittle?”

“Aye, little scraps of wood he tossed to me and with a wee knife I learned how to carve things.”

“Were you any good?” Bilbo asked. And Bofur laughed.

“Not at all.” Bilbo chuckled reluctantly, “first thing I made was a crooked snake.”

At that Bilbo paused, “how could a snake be crooked? Aren’t they all squirming and bent?”

Bofur turned his head and twitched a corner of his mouth upward, “I was a _bad_ whittler.” A moment passed, then they began to chuckle, then snorted and then both could hardly contain the laughs as they bubbled out in loud, contagious gawfs passed between them. Bofur enjoyed the brightness that twinkled into Bilbo’s eyes.

Bilbo breathed deep, feeling much of his tension melt away. Always his tension seemed to fade away when Bofur made him laugh. Bofur at least tried. Bofur always tried and while neither of them commented on it, Bilbo appreciated the extension of friendship. It didn’t make him miss Bag End any less, but it made it easier to cope to have this silly hat wearing dwarf want to make mild conversation, to share in a laugh.

“Crooked snake indeed.” He finally said after their giggles died down.

“Made you laugh _and_ its true.” Bofur felt a swell of pride in knowing his abilities were sharp as ever. They grinned at each other and Bofur wiggled his eyebrows, sending the little being into another fit of giggles. If only he could do the highs and lows that Nori was capable then the hobbit wouldn’t be able to breathe.

Finished with their bowls Bofur went to take them up to the pot to be cleaned, despite Bilbo’s polite protests that he shouldn’t concern himself and that the hobbit would take his own bowl up. Bofur just waved him off with a cheery flick of the wrist and went to clean the bowls.


	2. What's a Playful Swat Between Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a playful swat between friends...after all, they aren't subtle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit short, I know darlings. I'm sorry, there will be longer ones. This is just meant to be a bit fluffy and fun. This is intended to help Bilbo feel like more like one of the dwarves. After all, Bofur is meant to be helping Bilbo isn't he :3 more notes at the bottom about spelling issues...and format issues.
> 
> Please leave comments for me so I know what you think? Good and bad, I'll take them :)

    Bilbo, bless his beardless face, _was_ trying. He really didn't get in the way, always overly concerned with being polite and quiet, and running to give this to that one, and that to this one. He didn't smile, but he seemed happy to be included within the group, kept busy when Bofur wasn't available. Polite, odd little thing he was to be sure. Though his fussy nature did occationally pop its head out.  
    For example, when Bofur found Bilbo getting rid of the hankerchief he'd torn from his clothes during the beginning of the quest. Bofur, smirked as he helped set up the pot at the memory of it. Bilbo had been doing his puttering around, assisting where he could and when Bofur left for a while to do something with Bifur. He came back, Bilbo near the fire that Oin and Gloin had begun and were gathering wood for. Evidently asking the halfling to keep watch over it. Sneaking up, though with his large feet it was harder than he anticipated, but Bilbo was too occupied to notice. He came behind Bilbo, the swatch of cloth in his hand beginning to singe in the fire.  
"What'cha got there lad?"  
    All that natural pink hue drained from round cheeks once he realized who was standing above him.  
    "Oh uh..." if ever there were a guilty expression. There needed to be kindling for the fire after all, and it didn't mean that the hobbit didn't appreciate the gift it just...well during adventures, sacrifices, had to be made. Bofur had to resist, though his gut hurt from holding it and eyes watered, laughing at the stumbled over excuses.  
    After a week of guilty advoidences (not sitting with him for an afternoon smoke, or not eatting meals together, or even riding their ponies side by side) Bofur cornered him one night as Bilbo unfurlled his bed roll. Crept up on him with tinks and thumps of the company settling masked his approach.  
    Plump little rump facing him as Bilbo endevoured to straighten his mat. A tingle itched in Bofur's palm. Amongest friends, a playful punch, or swat of a hand against a rear, would be considered just that, playful. As Bofur looked at the bouncing bottom in front of him, palm facing upward against his side...They were fairly new friends. Maybe Bilbo wouldn't appreciate such a gesture. But, Bofur just wanted to help him fit in and thinking it out wasn't Bofur's strong suite.  
  
Bilbo fell forward with a yelp before getting up on his forearms and whipping back to see his attacker; hearing the laughter, loud and joyful like a little child before he completed his turn.  
"Bofur!?" His hobbitish nature typically would have prevented him from yelling, kicking up too much attention. It did _not_ prevent his crinckled brow or tightened lip, or the brightening of his cheeks. It also did not prevent the hands on his hips.  
"Bilbo!" The dwarf mimicked the scolding tone, even put his own hands on his hips.  
The hobbit regarded him for a moment with up down eyes before stating in that flat, dry tone of his disamusement, "if you are going to mimic me you'll have to stop with that _stupid_ grin of your's."  
Bofur laughed and put on an offened tone, "Oi, watch what you say about this _stupid_ grin. Got me out, and _in_ , enough trouble to turn you red all over. One of my best features." As if to prove his point he stretched his lips upward while lidding his eyes and turning his head slightly to the left to once over the halfling from the corners. Bilbo froze for a moment, glare melting from his features. What was this _warmth_? Lasting only a moment Bilbo shook his head.  
"Be that as it may, you can't just..." again dropping his voice to a modest whisper despite the four or five witnesses that had apparently gone unnoticed, "swat my rear."  
Bofur slapped a meaty palm against the small being's back with a more subdued chuckle, "sorry lad. Forget sometimes how different hobbits are from us. I'll remember next time."  
"Thank you." Bilbo nodded, ignoring the throb in his back and bottom. As he turned to fetch his pack off of Myrtle's back he heard Bofur call to him.  
"Oi Bilbo?"  
He halted and gazed back, Bofur smirking at him, "yes?"  
"Remember, Dwarves aren't sublte."  
Bofur did love how the halfling rushed away, face cast downward, shoulders stiff. My he did enjoy the shy ones. One jerk of his own head and a fond smile, Bofur went to find a spot for his own bed roll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about format and spelling mistakes...there have been some issues.


	3. Helping Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a snippet of Bofur lending a hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know please how you like/dislike? :) I love getting feedback ^^

Bilbo could manage. _Truly_ , they treated him like a piece of glass. Delicate like one of his grandmother’s figures of whispy creatures collecting dust on the mantle. Fili and Kili had taken a shine to him within the first week, teasing as dwarves were wont to do and despite their looking and acting younger than him, they treated _him_ as if he were a child.

Lifting and tying his heavy bags to the back of myrtle, fetching him food and water when they stopped for camp. Not always of course, but often enough that it took much of Bilbo’s control not to snap at them.

Balin, at least, respected him enough to try and include him in the set up and take down of the camp by having him run to and fro carrying things. Nothing _too_ heavy but certainly not light either. And he did fetch firewood.

Though, the biggest offender of this overly cautious care, Bofur. Especially after…the _other_ day. They’d been on the road for a while now, and the other day certainly had made an impression. Hobbits, even young ones, didn’t tend to swat the others’ rears. Not that Bilbo, admittedly, was eager to sit next to the jovial dwarf for fear of a repeated performance…and what was that statement after? Teasing? Though, he did not avoid him, there was tension.

"I have it." Bilbo squinted, lips drawn tight and thin. Bofur only saw the profile and grinned. Taunt shouldered, proud Bilbo. Stubborness of a dwarf if ever he could swear his beard by. At least Bilbo didn’t drop the pail and flee. Since the incident the other day, the hobbit seemed less inclined to be near him. Not obvious, but still, Bofur noticed. Drawing his legs closer to his person whenever Bofur sat next to him, wary corner glances. And clearly and exasperation whenever Bofur came to help him.

"Aye, that you do. But I’d like to make sure you don’t end up having it all down your front." Bofur said, pleasant and as if it was a simple statement that no one could take issue with. Except with the sudden halt of motion that jerked his hand

Honestly! He was no child! It was not as if he were an invalid in some way. He could carry a bucket of water (no matter that the large size and weight resulted in shaking arms and yes, a dampened front) just fine. Though, Bofur’s strong arms argued that point as the dwarf continued to grip one side of the rope handle leaving sore relief in Bilbo’s tired arms.

"I only have to go up the hill Bofur."

Bofur’s own face seemed to tighten. He _could not_ allow himself get frustrated with the hobbit. He could understand Bilbo, really. Poor little halfling already the weakest and smallest member unfamiliar with dwarvish ways of living, not used to camping if the tossing and turning, chattering teeth and groaning belly could attest. That, and the doubtful eyes of Thorin and a good number of other’s on his back…Bofur just wanted to help.

"And I’m letting you go lad, just want to help you finish quickly. Rather hungry myself and Bombur is eager to start cooking. We get up there with this, we can start and have dinner sooner. And that means we can have a smoke, maybe get some early rest." Bofur might not have the silver tongue of Nori, but hopefully gentle eyes and pleasant, non-coddling tone of logic would help ease Bilbo’s indignation.

What was his warmth? This softening of his resolve as Bofur’s lips turned upward, framed by that silly mustache? Was he not suppose to be frustrated with the constant aid? Hungry indeed. But still, maybe assisting him was just Bofur’s way of apologizing, of making him feel welcomed? Bofur, after all, wasn’t taking _away_ the bucket like Fili or Kili would.

Bilbo’s shoulders relaxed, that firm expression lessening.

"Fine, you can help get this bucket up the hill. I’m rather hungry myself."


	4. Subtle Meaning?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did Bofur mean by that comment?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter, let me know what you think?

Bump, thump, clip, clop, Bilbo's bottom and horse went respectively. First time he'd hoped off Myrtles back, his legs nearly gave out with sore, stretched muscles collapsing back into shape. And his rear, his rear had been quite unpleasant to sit on and while he slept, he had to utilize his front. The thought of his rear perked his eyes up to the back of one silly hat wearing dwarf. The rear incident had already happened a while ago, they'd fallen back into a routine. And while having the constant aid from Bofur, it still kept the two princes at bay from doing _everything_ for him. 

Bilbo is a self-reliant hobbit thank you very much. He may not be as strong as Dori, or as intimidating as Dwalin, or even as clever a thief as Nori, but he did just fine on his own. At least he seemed to think so. But what did they expect from him right out of the gate? A wizard-strengthed hobbit? He knew he was not what they expected, or even wanted. Especially Thorin, and he did not need to be reminded of it with every hitch, every mistake in the road he made. And what is worse? The patronizing aid. Bofur especially being overly helpful, overly caring at times for him when all he wanted was to prove he didn't need their coddling. But what if it was a mistake on his part to jump to conclusions about Bofur's actions? He could just be friendly, he was friendly. One of the few he could say with certainty would miss him if he left. Not because he was their burglar, but because they were friends.

It was driving him mad. Thinking on this. It had been fine after the bucket and he and Bofur continued to sit next to each other with tension lessening. Bilbo a bit more eager to accept Bofur's help on the condition the dwarf didn't take over, Bofur asking before doing anything that could remotely be considered a discomfort. But it was driving him mad thinking on that particular statement....Dwarves weren't subtle.

They settled in for the night. And Bofur's breathing was next to him. He could feel it against the side of his face. The dwarf was quite clearly still on his own bed roll, but had, in sleep, huddled closer to the hobbit who'd accepted the offer of a spot near his friend. Careful to not turn fully (as if even in sleep, Bilbo couldn't spare a moment to study) Bilbo took in the sleeping dwarf's features. Truth be known, at least to himself, Bofur really did have handsome features. Rounded cheeks, strong jaw, clever eyes, wide grin (well, not a grin, more like a sloping, slight agape line drooling onto the pillow beneath), and all that facial hair was beginning to grow on him. 

He turned his face back toward the sky and sighed, closing his eyes. On his tongue, the hearty taste of smoke from the pipe he'd shared with Bofur earlier before turning in.

_____

"What did you mean..." Bilbo's voice ever hushed as he came alongside him that morning. Not usual, not after all these weeks, for Bilbo to come ride along side him before he'd a chance to find him at the back of the group.

"What did I mean by what Bilbo?" He didn't whisper like Bilbo, but he didn't raise his voice either.

"The...a while back. When you swatted me. You said...dwarves weren't subtle." Awe, how cute.

"With the way you're blushing, I thought the _meaning_ was clear."

"Well.." Bilbo cleared his throat. Eyes fixated on the back of Myrtle's head, "it is rude to make assumptions." He jumped at the laugh that burst out of his companion.

"Cautious folk aren't you hobbits." Bofur shook his head with mirth before refocusing his eyes on the other.

Bilbo gripped the reins tight in his hands, feeling the sting of the newer callouses in the pads of them, "you didn't answer my question."

Bofur reached out before Bilbo could react and placed his hand on top of the hobbits (requiring some stretching on his part) "Bilbo, don't worry yourself. I care about you."

Bilbo could feel the heat from under his shirt, in his neck and face, _care about you_ what did that mean! Hobbit dealt with direct answers. _Don't worry?_ How could he interpret these actions! But his nerves got better of his tongue and he could do nothing more than sit numbly silent. Knitted gloves warm and he felt the press of the pattern against his skin. And then coolness as Bofur removed his hand from the hobbit's.

"When we stop, we can help set up the cooking kit and get some firewood. We probably won't need too much water, Bombur said that he wanted to try a spit tonight." Bofur loved that Bilbo could only nod. He would have to ensure that he helped Bilbo as often as he could. He still had half a pouch of pipe weed left to share, and tonight, if it were cold enough, mayhap Bilbo would need help staying warm.

  
 

  
 


	5. Keeping warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is the best way to keep someone warm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think? I had a lot of fun with this chapter but I feel it was very choppy and the style sloppish. I want to have them question their attraction to one another, but I think it will come later on. Right now is more of a build up, basic attraction, and in my writing, I haven't explored ALL that they've done together, more of a glossing I feel...so I hope that this chapter will add some real meat to it. So...please let me know what you think :)

Both dwarf and hobbit's hearts twinged in a breif flutter of anticipation as they pushed their rolls _firmly_ together. Though, for different reasons. Unlike the dwarves, hobbits, as was put, prefered room to wiggle their feet. An expression used by single hobbits in reference to their freedom. Freedom lost when one shares their bed (and as the expression is hinted, their life) with another. But the Shire is long gone. Has been now for a few months. And Bilbo, all the while, had delt with it. Bofur could appreciate that, loved it in fact, the hobbit was carrying on. Certainly, when Bilbo thought no one could hear him, he would mutter to himself about inconviences and aches, but the second he became aware of another, he gave the same worried yet neutral smile. Polite and careful. Except of course, with Bofur. And that alone made him glow. Bilbo's smiles around him were warmer, more gleeful. Yes Fili and Kili had grown on the halfling, and Balin was kind, Bofur won the brightest smiles. Mainly, the dwarf would like to imagine, because he was really _there_ for Bilbo. He may not have thought that a frail, soft hobbit would be a match for the elements, but he was holding up well enough. Just needed a helping hand. His jitters, flustered words, and hands were adorable too boot. And he'd come to enjoy Bilbo's talk of his home whenever they'd the opportunity to rest and Bofur's ears rejoiced at that soft and openly excitable voice. Small stories of childhood, gardens, favorite books even. Gentle, peaceful talk that soothed his innards. In turn, the dwarf spun his own tales to the halfling's wonderment. Though each time he attempted to _remind_ Bilbo of the lass he'd had in the Blue Mountains, Bilbo progressively got less embaressed and would shove him, laughing as he did so. And on this night, when rain had drenched them and the air nipped with frosty licks against their wet skin, well no one wanted to sleep alone.

Of course there had been the occational wet night, but this night in particular, drenching. Bilbo had been walking by, doing the typical assiting. sloppish wet slaps of his coat dripping off his thighs as he walked. Though the quest for dry firewood seemed to be in vain by the few sticks craddled in Bilbo's arms. Gloin and Oin had accepted them, but obviously weren't pleased by the meager find with the huffs. They were fire starters after all, they'd worked with less, and set about getting one started. Ringing out cloaks and overcoats, hanging up shirts and even in some cases removing trousers remaining in boots and long underwear that, while still damp, still allowed them to hang up the most offensively wet clothing up to get them near the fire and hopefully have them dry by morning. The hobbit though, beyond removing his over coat, sloshed around in his wet clothes.

When the hobbit sat next to him this night, handing the other a bowl of stew and spoon before diving into his, Bofur eyed his pale, clammy skin. The minute tremors with each mild gust sweeping through the encampment. While dwarves prefered it hot, they also were a hot blooded people. Not impervious to the cold by any means but certainly heardy and warm enough inside to not be so chilled as the shivering little thing next to him.

"Bilbo, best be getting out of those clothes so you can get them dry by the moring." He said, noting now how damp his thigh had become with Bilbo's leg pressed against his.

Bilbo shifted, "My spare clothes are far too tattered and filthy by this point to do anything with them. And I don't have long underwear like you."  
  


Bofur took a bite, the meat delicious and tad red, "you'll turn all chapped. You'll be covered in red, itchy bumps," he made a point of bringing his eyes to Bilbo's trousers before bringing his gaze back up to Bilbo's, "wouldn't be too comfy I'd bet." And while the mouthful Bofur spoke around made Bilbo cringe, he did listen to his words. 

"I am afraid I am not as _bold_ as dwarvish folk to simply strip down into nothing but my skin. Besides, we're relatively near the fire." Bilbo made a squeak noise in his throat before forcing a cough. Hurrying to put food in his mouth, he yelped when the hot water fell onto his hands and lap when he sneezed hard and sudden.

Bofur immediantly took the bowl from the halfling and using his tunic that'd been hanging on a branch next to him, began patting his friend's hands with fast, worried swips.

"Now Bilbo lad," he said working the broth off the skin before it could blister, "you can't be catching a cold now. Got a long way to go yet. You need to get warmed up. Best way to do that, get out of those clothes," Bilbo's mouth opened to protest, "I don't want to hear it. Here...it isn't exactly the _cleanest_   of things, but it'll do ye until the morning." 

Bilbo watched, open mouthed, as Bofur moved away from him to go towards the darker parts of the camp, onto the muddy grass unable to warm in the glow of the fire, so that he could rummage through his bag. Muttering in that dwarvish tongue Bilbo'd gotten used to hearing but not understanding, Bofur returned with something long and white.

"Brought this with me just in case, but just haven't had a chance to wear it. Haven't needed it really. Afraid it has my scent all over it, has been tossing about in my bag all this time. But it's warm and dry. I want you to put it on." When Bilbo hesitated, Bofur rolled his eyes, and reached down to pat Bilbo on the back to jump him into standing. 

"Uh...alright then. If you're going to be so set on it." Bilbo eyed the garment in his arms dubiously before resigning himself to Bofur's firm but friendly concerned grin and off into the woods he popped.

Much longer than expected. The yellowed white fabric brushed past his feet to the ground beneath, the sleeves waving off of him in the night...shirt? gown? meant for the broad build of a dwarf.  Thankfully it had no scratchy lace or large buttons to scratch and poke him like one of the night shirts his grandmother had given him when he was a youth. To give himself some modesty, he kept his undergarments beneath the surface. Those, at least, had not been very wet to begin with, but the way his nipples pebbled against the friction of the fabric loose and brushing against him in the breeze...he could sit with his arms crossed. Signing, pile of wet clothes in hand, Bilbo headed back. The scent of metalic smoke, some spice, tobacco, wafted from the fabric...Bofur's scent. 

Bilbo came out from the trees to find Bofur's waiting, hip leaned against the tree they'd been sitting next. Pushing off Bofur came to stand in front, eyes traveling from Bilbo's face down to his furry feet, back to his eyes with a wide and...relieved smile.

"There now...what a sight you make. All cozy and warm." 

Yes...very _warm_ suddenly. "Yes, thank you Bofur."

"Think nothing of it Bilbo."

And later that night, when the first watch was to be taken by Gloin (fire crackling warm in its pit still), Bofur had come to Bilbo.

"Bilbo, come sleep by me tonight?" Careful to keep himself neutral and calm, Bofur occupied his attention on adjusting his roll though he'd already set it twice.

Not able to see Bofur's face, Bilbo could not read his expression. The dwarf had his back to him, fiddling with his roll that he'd already moved twice (of that Bilbo had noticed earlier. No one else had done much else when they had stopped for camp beyond heaving their heavy loads onto the sodden ground). Why? Why fidgit Bofur? Bilbo's throat dried like the clothes hung around the fire. He'd slept next to Bofur before, but... _something_ felt different. There was tension around the pair and Bilbo gripped his roll and moved to lay next to his friend.

Bofur stopped, heart fluttering and Bilbo pushed his roll firmly against his. Mute, they piled onto their respective rolls and tugged whatever blanket they had to cover them. And in silence, they laid their, facing the opposite direction of each other, eyes wide open.

"Bilbo?" Came that accented voice.

"Yes?"

"It is cold tonight."

"Yes it is." Bilbo observed, breath now visible in the moonlight and faint orange glow of the fire that had died down a bit.

"Do you know the best way to stay warm?"

"Blankets?" He offered and rolled around to his other side, _almost_ startled to find Bofur had turned over himsel. Chuckling Bofur reached a hand out and placed it on Bilbo's hip.

"Body heat." If only the rest of the lads weren't asleep, then Bofur could've had a nice laugh at the shock on the hobbit's face.

"Couldn't say I would guess that."

"Oh aye, it is quite handy for keeping warm in a group."

"And...what does this have to do with us?"

Bofur's pursuavisve smile and large but friendly grip on his hip had Bilbo's nerves calming.

"Bilbo...dwarves aren't sublte about what they want. Come here? Keep me warm tonight?"


	6. Do you want to stay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does Bilbo feel about the elves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you like/dislike. I always enjoy feedback. I thank you guys GREATLY for the Kudos, the time you take to read this and for your comments. I am very glad I can offer you a story you're enjoying. ALSO, I do not use the term sleep together to meaning sex. Sleep is sleep.
> 
> Also, the dwarves spent a decent amount of time in Rivendell...the way that the movie makes it seem it was overnight. I would like to think that it was at least a few nights. Enough for them to really rest and actually put the kitchen under strain and really offend the elves lol.

A sting went through the side of his foot as rough boot tapped it.

"Rise and shine Bilbo, getting started early today." Fogged mind drifting from sleepy white into full color of dull purples and yellows of sunrise across the land. Metalic and spicy smoked scent billowed up from a puff of warm air from under his blanket as he stretched his spine and wiggled his feet. He looked up to see Bofur's back as the dwarf had completed his duty of waking the halfling and went to help his cousin set up the ponies. Rubbing his eyes Bilbo reached down to tug the gown down from around his chest where it had bunched in his tossing and turning (for which Bofur had nudged him awake and told him to quit kicking his stomach before gripping him back into arms with a tired smile). That's right! Bilbo froze for a moment, hands gripped in that yellowed white fabric. Bofur had held him last night. He let Bofur hold him last night. Right after they'd put their rolls together Bofur asked him to _come here_ and he came into his arms. The night had been cold, and dwarves were just more comfortable being physical right? It wasn't as if he hadn't seen them snuggled together for warmth on previous nights. Well, that had really only been with their kin now that he thought about it. Never had Bofur ever asked him to sleep  _on_ his roll before, let alone wrap his arms around him. Though, as Bilbo snapped himself to his senses and popped from the blankets out into early morning fridgidness, he could not find a regret in the safty and comfort those muscled arms offered around his body. Bilbo had to bury his face in Bofur's chest for fear of having their faces _much_ too close. Besides, Bofur's furry body was so cozy to cuddle up to in his sleep that he enjoyed being near the core of him. His heart beats against his face soothed him. And though the early mornings _s_ _till_ had trouble catching up to him, he felt rather refreshed. And embaressed. One did not just casually _sleep_ with another like he'd just done. And...oh nevermind. He stuck out his jaw and proceeded to get his clothes that, thankfully, had managed to dry with the fire going all night. 

After he'd buttoned the last button, straightened his neck scarf and packed away his bed roll, he took the night gown in hand and prepared to hand it back. The softness of the slickened dirt refershing to even _his_ feet with the ease in which he could walk and thus perhaps, Myrtle would feel at ease too. The others were putting thier things away, tying and covering their camp up, manuvering through Bifir, Dwalin, and Nori, he came across Bofur helping Bombur with saddle bags. The rotund dwarf having a touch of trouble ensuring all the pots and pans stayed in their over tight pack. Reaching out, Bilbo tapped Bofur's shoulder, unsure why he was blushing.

"Wide and awake I see." Bofur's cheeriness in the morning could be considered obnoxious, yet Bilbo just accepted it, "very handsome."

"Beg...pardon."

"Very handsome you when you're actually awake. Less grumpy frowns on that face. Doesn't do, Bilbo, to be so sour."

"It's sunrise Bofur," the hobbit let out an exasperated laugh having already expressed his displeasure of early mornings _and_ over such a complement.

"Yes it is. Nice one too." Bofur nodded towards the horizon. Bilbo looked towards the now higher sun and let the peacefulness wash over him for a mintue. Blinking he shifted on his feet and turned back to face that jovial face.

"I've your night gown." He held it out to the dwarf's hands.

Pausing, Bofur turned to finish a knot before turning back around to the halfling, "Keep it." And Bilbo's arm hung there like a tree limb, eyes naturally widening.

Clearing his throat as he tended to do when nervous, a trait Bofur found endearing for it was not needed, "well I wouldn't....I...thank you." 

Bofur winked and Bilbo dipped whenn his hand landed on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, "you are more than welcome Bilbo." Bofur glanced around quickly, and his expression dropped to sudden realization. "Oh Bilbo we've got to hurry up, everyone's nearly on their ponies by now."

 

Every now and again, they made eye contact accidently when they had been trying to sneak glances at each other. Bilbo naturally would turn away much quicker and look far more _caught_ than Bofur who was riding a pace ahead next to Nori. Nori of course, kicked his friend and gave him a wink to which Bofur gladly laughed.

_____

That night, Thorin and Gandalf had fought, leaving them without their wizard. And while Bilbo was concerned, Bofur waved it off as a wizard's temperment. 

"Here, take this to the lads." And that's when the whole thing had started. 

At first all was well, a peaceful diner under the stars, a dark night with no moon. And then time dragged on. Where was Bilbo to keep his side warm? The princes weren't too far were they?

 

Next thing he knew, he had feet in his back, ropes around his body and he was going round and round over a fire. And there was Bilbo _telling the troll to eat them!_ Oh, he didn't want to doubt, he really didn't. Bilbo might not be the  _bravest_ of fellows but certainly he wouldn't offer them up so that the trolls might spare him right? He tried not to think of it as he spun round and round...maybe the wizard would come back and no one would die. Then one of them had his brother! From the constant turning, he could not tell from the awkward angles when he was facing up, opposite, or below. And oh, clever Bilbo! He would gladly say he was riddled with parasites if that meant he could stay out of another's belly. Oh his hobbit was smart. Yes, _his_ hobbit. After that wonderful night, and this? This was brilliant and Bofur would _have_ to tell him so...when they were done running away from Orcs of course.

Oh, he tried to keep an eye out for Bilbo, tried to stay close to him, but Mahal he couldn't help be concerned for his own hide as well. It was a difficult back and forth between watching Bilbo and watching himself, while trying to keep all his breath and strength up. Dwarves were not meant to run such long distances. The aches and pains, the burning, and poor Bilbo's pantings and shaky legs and large feet. 

___

All's well that ends well suppose when Gandalf led them into Rivendell. Bofur, like many dwarves, had very good reasons to hate elves. Slaughtering of his people in mass for one.  And when they came into the city's main square, he yanked Bilbo to safty. He wouldn't allow any pointy ear to touch his hobbit! 

Thankfully though, Gandalf told them there was nothing to fear. Food and shelter would be nice after all, even if it came from the elves. Didn't mean they couldn't have some fun with being here, if dinner was anything to go by. Poor Bilbo looked mortified when he'd hopped down. All he could was laugh and wink at him. And when they were given their little alclove and their rooms, well, that king seemed to have taken a liking to Bilbo giving him his _own_ room. But as Bofur watched Bilbo's face, he was happy.  
 

They went to sleep, after cooking _real_ food and Bilbo retired to a, as he put it _real_ bed.

Bilbo climbed into the large bed. Huge really. Much less warm and cozy. Well that wasn't fair, it _was_ warm. And the extra room and privacy was nice after travelling with such a large group. Yet, something was missing. Toss and turn, turn and toss for over an hour before he climbed out of the bed and went to his pack. Typically he'd sleep in his clothes, but after last night...there it was. Such a musky scent, strong, welcoming as Bilbo stripped the button up he'd been sleeping in and yanked the white gown over his head. Returning to the massive matress, he pulled the blankets up snug under his chin, and curled his fingers to clench the extra sleeve fabric.

Bofur couldn't say rough housing with the group didn't have its fun, it was nice to be safe and sound. To have food in their bellies (elves made decent breads and deserts) and destory elvish furnature. But the hobbit left to his own room. He said he was excited for a bed and off he went. Now the room he share with his brothers felt _empty_. They had their own beds, too high off the floor and very wide. Well, the widness was fine, spreading out and really feeling himself all broad and stretched felt good. But he'd trade that for a hobbit snuggled into his chest or even kicking him in the stomach in the middle of the night.

____

Thorin was restless, clearly. Bathing in their sacred fountain allivated some of the stress and worry in his brow, even brought a smile to his weary lips. But regardless, he wanted to get out. They'd been there for a week and Bofur couldn't find Bilbo. Sure he'd seen the halfling around, but the hobbit was always roaming the halls or the garden. And Bilbo _always_ came into the alcove the dwarves went to before they seperated to their rooms and would say goodnight. But today, well Bofur wouldn't be object to waking the hobbit up, or even staying the night to wake him up. Nori would get them if he's cousin or brother didn't and/or Bofur's internal clock failed to rouse him.

 

Bilbo traveled around the parts of the city nearest to Elrond's home. Rivendell, a place Bilbo could only _dream_ of in his imagination fueled by studying the elves. Though awkward silence in light of his companions' hate for the tall people, left Bilbo's awe in check. Beautiful! Full of sinewy curls and bends, nature indoors! The cascade of waterfalls all around them in a peaceful flow of noise. So bright and natural, magnificent. If ever he were to live else, Rivendell would be his ideal choice.

Tomorrow being the day, Bofur set about wandering by his lonesom to find the hobbit to let him know to pack tonight to be ready for the morning. Bilbo was getting too comfortable here if his deep breathes and sighs were an idication. Turning round an empty corner, he found him on a bench in a garden. Shaded and relaxing. Ah, there it was. Right in the hobbit's face. the same admiration most of the free folk had just by _looking_ at the damn gangly things. Bofur bit the inside of his cheek. Bilbo was _not_ a dwarf, and for the first time in a while, seemed purely happy. He couldn't ruin that for his friend. Bilbo had no reason to hate the elves as they did. Part of why he chose to sit at the opposite table during dinner. Too afraid of slipping up, say something hurtful. He didn't think things through after all. 

Straightening his spine, he let his mouth rise and elected to just aborb Bilbo's joy as he went over to sit next to his hobbit. His boots loud in this quiet palace. 

Bilbo nearly jumped up when he saw the dwarf, bliss in his eyes brought on by the rest and the beauty around them, "Hello Bofur."

Bofur sat and pulled out his pipe, "Hi Bilbo, fancy a smoke?"

"Oh, I'd be delighted."

Together they began to smoke like they would back at the camp, enjoying the closeness of the other that had been absent this past week.

"You want to stay here don't you? With the elves?" He hadn't meant to, but he couldn't keep it inside. Eyes fixated on the smoke rings drifting away. Bilbo felt a sharp, cold trickle radiate from the back of his skull down to the base of his spine. Smoke filled his mouth and with a sluggish tongue he played with it, stalling for his answer.

"Its alright. I understand. Everyone finds them so magestic and wise after all." Even in the calm of his voice, an uncharacteristic bitterness bit. Bofur's frown deepened and Bilbo coughed on the smoked he'd held onto.

"Bofur," ah that sweet, hesitant voice. With a siff turn of his head, he looked at the hobbit now staring at him with new pinked cheeks and fluttery eyes.

"Dwarves are magestic and wise too. In their own way." Bilbo stated firmly.

"But you weren't impressed by us Bilbo."

"Well, when I first met the lot of you, it wasn't exactly a good first impression." His lips offered a wry twitch, trying to coax a grin from the dwarf as the other often done for him, and taking the bait, Bofur allow a mild grin of his own before looking away.

"Couldn't help it if you looked so damn adorable chasing after plates and bowls." To his own surprize he felt a laugh slide up at the memory form in his chest. Which grew into a small fit when Bilbo shoved him, chuckling.

After laughter ebbed away they looked at each other. While doubt still clouded them, the air was clear enough for them to see. The sudden heat of Bilbo's hand upon his had Bofur glance down.

"I may be impressed by the elves. I may find Rivendell to be magestic and beautiful, but I _do_ respect dwarves and am in awe of your own unique abilities. I may not _fit in_ with the lot of you," he shook his head at that before reaffirming his eye contact, "but rest assured, at the _very_ least, you are impressive and I'm glad for our friendship."

Bofur sat, not a single sound passing from him as he felt his cheeks tug up and up.

"Why Bilbo, that is one of the grandest compliments I've ever had the joy of recieving."

All the crickets in the grass died down, the chirps of the birds, even the pouring of the waterfalls halted as Bilbo and Bofur began to lean in. Two scents blended as their breath became shared. Bofur's _stupid grin_ all more promising as Bilbo licked his own lips. Swallowing, Bilbo finally made the rush to bridge the gap; when a massive cracking wood crash echoed through the garden followed by a chorus of deep voice laughter. After his own heart stopped beating like a mad hare, he went to look at the halfling again only to find him upended over the bench, huge hobbit hooves hanging in the air.

Tears fell from the dwarf's eyes and no air passed into his lungs for a minute.

"Oh...hahahaha...oh Bilbo....like an upturned turtle!" His large arms wrapped around himself.

Mild hurt throbbed in his back as he groused, flipping his feet to the side and rolling up to his feet.

"Ha, ha." Tartness and a brushing of his trousers with his palms had Bilbo upright and proper again. "Suppose they've broken something large and expensive?"

When Bofur inhailed to regain his breath and speech he wiped his eyes and turned his head back towards the noise, "suppose the elves are out something large and expensive." Bofur shrugged at Bilbo's rather scolding eyes. "I'll explain it to you later Bilbo. Not now. Not while you're so happy and innocent to it all."

They both shuffled around as the sunlight began dipping lower in the sky. The noises of the vally returned and they merely looked at each other. Then with a flourishing laugh, "Bilbo lad, I forgot, I have to tell you we're setting out early tomorrow morning. Don't worry, I'll come and get you." He patted his friend's shoulder at the displeased line of his mouth. Shame, things looked to be turning around. Ah, mood was lost anyways. And while making love to Bilbo on an actual bed was a tempting prospect for the dwarf to propse now that he had a hint of Bilbo's feelings held sway...he did not want to suggest it when any elf could probably hear them. Especially when he wasn't sure if Bilbo would be prepared for that. That would be something for private. Somewhere he'd be able to take his time and have the privacy to have it be just between them. Ah, Bofur, he shook hi shead at himself, getting ahead of himself he was.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning Bilbo." He waved and headed off to find a private place of his own.

Bilbo was left with butterflies, butterflies for goodness sake, in his stomach. What _almost_ happened?


	7. But you are part of the company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Bofur have a moment in the rain and in the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be some changes to the cannon in this chapter so forgive me. But this is, basically, AU already so...taking a chance. Happy Late Valentine's Day you lovely people. Thank you for continuing to read this!

Almost. _Just_ about there were the hobbit’s lips against his. If the lads hadn’t destroyed that rather massive book case, he might’ve found his arms full of pink, squirming Bilbo instead of the empty bed he dozed in now. Bofur curled into himself, body shaking with giggled delight. _Oh Bilbo lad_ , he thought, _I’ll convince you yet._

Damn the early mornings. Vally, not yet lit by full dawn’s light, grew smaller with each step as he marched dutifully with his chosen companions. Sparing a glance behind, Bilbo turned around to see his chance for escape once more. Bofur was right, he didn’t want to continue. He wanted to stay, study elves and their magic. Comb through Elrond’s library, become better friends with the lord himself as he would smoke and sip wine before retiring each night in a bed large enough to wiggle five pairing of hobbit feet.

"Mr. Baggins, I suggest you keep up!" Thorin’s bark was already so deadly to his peace of mind, and even in pride he never knew he had to prove. Turning back round, he began the sure to be perilous journey through the mountain pass.

While Bofur managed to keep his feet forward, eyes fixated in front of him„ besides the sparing glance between him and Nori, he just _knew_. Bilbo wanted to stay and Thorin’s words were loud and powerful and shocked Bilbo as much as it pained this dwarf. He did not want to think of his hobbit pining, of stopping, of regretting his choice once again to continue. Gritting his teeth, Bofur closed his eyes and smiled. Smile, always smile. It always made his mother so happy to see him smile. And his father. When he’d been old enough to understand those types of jokes whispered between the older dwarves at parties and in pubs away from young ears, he could really get his father laughing. And his mother too, when she was in the greatest need of a laugh.

But that smile on his mouth now bent and twisted in a mock of contentment. The tug in his chest backwards tempted to turn him around, grip the hobbit's shoulders and beg him to let his doubts go. He couldn't do it though. He couldn't face it again. Already hard enough to speak it out loud. Hearing the bitter notes in his friend's voice when saying he didn't _fit in_. No. Best ignore it. Cowardice be damned, Bofur concentrated on the smack of boots on solid rock and imagining what could be running through them. What would be waiting for them as they went onward to Erebor. Don't look at the hobbit. Don't see the pain in Bilbo's face as he once again came along against his better judgement. Ignore the selfish thrill it gave to his heart to know that, for at least a while longer, he could have his friend near him a while longer.

"Are you alright?" Bombur whispered. None to quietly for now Bifur's eyes wandered to his in concern.

Ah family. The muscles around his mouth loosened into relaxed, eyes too, as warmth came into Bofur's face, "Fine lads. Nothing to worry about. Just some foolish whims." At that, Bifur and Bombur both glanced back over their shoulders. Bofur failed to notice the shared look between his cousin and brother as they continued waking side by side.

"He looks rather alone back there with nothing but Dwalin next to him all silent and glaring." Bombur stated into his brother's ear, patting a hand against Bofur's back.

"Aye?"

"Go walk with him Bofur." The rough signs Bifur gave, firm and understood in their sharp and quick gestures. 

"Bifur, you don't need to take that tone with me. Not a child now." Bofur laughed.

"Then don't act like one. Act like the dwarf you are. Go walk by him."

Bofur glanced back. Bilbo's head lobbed tiredly. Eyes glassy, lazy, body slumped like an animated sack of potatoes. "Aye," He agreed. Sad sight. "I think I will go walk by him for a while if you can stand being without me a while." 

Both his cousin and brother gave him a rough shove, chuckling and snorting, before Bofur turned his body and went towards the middle of the line.

"Moring Bilbo."

Bilbo had been lolled into focus on the ache in his legs once again brought from walking after a long rest. Bofur's voice, started his mind and he reaffirmed his head on his neck to its proper straightforward position and a tired smile graced his features as his cheeks warmed at his  friend's more than welcome presence.

"Good Morning Bofur. You realize we did this earlier when you came to wake me?"

"Aye, but seeing as all I'd gotten the first time was a pillow to the face and a groan, I decided to try again."

 

\------

Bilbo remembered this. Wet, aggitation, and now Thorin proving once more how much he did not belong. Curled into Bofur as he cast his eyes down, rain drenching them as if they were in the sea. Bilbo thanked no one in particular that his tears could not be seen. In such a storm, not even Bofur's scent could reach him; thankfully his arms did as the dwarf gave him a tight squeeze after the king went into the cave.

"Come on Bilbo lad. Let's get ourselves inside." He muttered against flattened curls, rubbed one gloved hand along the halfling's arm before standing and guiding him along with twined fingers. If anyone besides Bofur's family (and Nori) noticed, they did not say.

Before stepping inside, both Bilbo and Bofur felt the pats against their backs. Though Nori hurried past them without looking, the two gave each other and weak smile.

"You stay near me and my own tonight Bilbo." It was not a question.

"Alright." Too tired for shyness, Bilbo nodded.

"Bofur," Thorin's voice cut through, "take the first watch."

 

Bofur leaned against the wall with his pipe in hand. It had been a _long_ day. The grit of the cave floor scratched and shifted as the group tossed and turned to settle into sleep. And one tiny, damp bundle in worn red stood out in the darkened space (lit by the occasional flash of lighting) before he took watch round the corner near the entrance. If everyone hadn't bee awake, he might've kissed his cheek in good night. Poor Bilbo. Thorin was such an ass. King or no king. But, he hadn't let Bilbo fall, he would never have done that. But to shame the already misplaced hobbit in front of everyone? It could have happened to any one of them. The stone giants nearly killed the lot of them and then there would've been no adventure. No hope to reclaim Erebor. It wasn't Bilbo's fault. And if he were a bit braver, he might've said so to the king's face. Next time he would. Pop, he unclenched the teeth he hadn't noticed he was clenching and the soreness of his jaw lessened.

Involved in his thoughts, it took a chance glance up to see the back of Bilbo as the hobbit made his way out.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bofur's heart jumped into his throat.

Bilbo stiffened his jaw and turned back to his friend's face. Dear, sweet, Bofur. He inhaled and said, "Back to Rivendell." He tried to keep the tears out of his eyes. Fueling the fire of anger instead that had been building in his gut at every jab of Thorin's painful words, at every occurrence of his uselessness. Saving them from trolls be damned, they wouldn't have ended up that way if he'd managed to defend himself in the first place.

"No, no," Bofur couldn't...he jumped up, "you can't turn back now, you're part of the company. You're one of us!"

"I'm not though am I." That bitterness, from back on that bench, just before..."Thorin said I shouldn't have come and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins." Bilbo looked away with a rueful, almost tearful smile, "Shouldn't have run out my door."

Bofur knew this, knew what Bilbo needed even if he didn't. He knew this doubt and weariness for he'd felt it a lot himself back when they'd first settled in the Blue Mountains, "You're homesick, I understand." He nodded.

And that is when Bilbo snapped, "No you don't! You don't understand, none of you do, you're dwarves!" Bilbo's words growing with fire. Before Bofur could do more than try and nod his understanding Bilbo continued. 

"You're used to this life." He gestured around the cave, "of living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere."

Bofur's attempt at a comforting smile faded from his face and Bilbo's words hit him. But he couldn't get angry. Especially not with Bilbo. But the hollowness now in his body had him almost stunned into numbness.

"Look I'm sorry. I..." Bilbo glanced away, and did that thing, that little cough he did. Under better circumstances, he might've been warmed by hobbitish habits, but Bofur turned his head to look at his friends, his brother's in arms, his own family and the truth hit him. All at once, everything felt impossible. They had no home, would probably fail at getting it back. Bilbo was leaving so their advantage of surprise would be lost without a non-dwarf burglar. The elements and circumstances surrounding them since they'd left the Shire conspired against them from the get go. Why should he have hoped in the first place?

"No you're right, we don't belong anywhere."

He brought his eyes to Bilbo's, seeing the regret, the apology in his eyes. Well, if they had no hope, he might as well help Bilbo retain his. The hope of staying alive in any case, "I wish you all the like in the world." Now Bilbo's eyes focused on his, "I really do." He reached out and gripped that small shoulder, so small. So breakable under his hard, large hands. The last chance he'd ever have to see, to touch Bilbo, to hear his voice....he wasn't one for thinking.

 


	8. Don't Leave?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur convinces Bilbo to stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon cannon changes for this fic, I hope that you guy still enjoy. Please leave feedback, good or bad, if you wish. Much love to you guys :)

Bilbo's experience with facial hair had, up to this point, been limited. There were the rare hobbits with longer side burns, some with patches of scruff that poked from their jaws as they grew older, and of course seeing Gandalf when he was a child. Nothing prepared him for the mild burn against his mouth and chin that came from kissing someone with it. Despite it tickling and itching up into his nose and the burn against his soft skin, the very presense of the dwarf's lips against his in a damp press, the wrap of his strong arms around his body, hands resting against his lower back. His body was flush against the rough coat, the pouches painfully pressing into his waist. His smaller hands, of their own mind, had wrapped themselves into the hair beneath Bofur's hat. Their teeth bumped each other's in soft clicks, their eyes were closed, Bilbo felt his body stretch from the toes as he leaned up into the dwarf's taller frame. Warmth, joy,...and....a stiring in his stomach.

Bofur pulled away first, "Please, stay Bilbo." his breath brushed over the hobbit's lips, eyes remaining closed, arms tight around the smaller form.

"Bofur..." Bilbo felt dizzy, eyes cracking open. If he looked as effected as Bofur did right now, than he could not possibly say no. Even in the face of a dragon that could melt his flesh in a blink of an eye. If only Bofur would be there to hold him when it did. Even if Thorin did make him feel outside of it all.

"Please. You _are_ apart of the company. _I_ want your company. Please Bilbo. We can't do this without you." All of it came out much more desperate than Bofur would have been proud of as a dwarf. Good thing he didn't care too much for pride. At least not when it came to his heart.

"But Thorin..."

"Thorin's an ass. I'll tell him so myself if I have to." Bofur opened his eyes and pulled back to look Bilbo full in the face with a hopeful grin.

Bilbo fell back onto the flats on his feet, hands still in that roughend mane so much longer, and braided, than a hobbit's could hope to be. That grin on Bofur's face, coupled with what he'd _just_ promised, Bilbo's shoulders began to shake with silent laughter and he buried his face into that wide chest in front of him.

"What I would give to see his reaction." He managed when his breath caught up and his eyes were damp.

"My family would have to look for another tinker and toymaker." Bofur chuckled. Tiny fingers in his hair, Bilbo's body against his so small and warm.

"Well I wouldn't want to put them through such a fuss just because you were so kind and brave for me." Bilbo whispered, bringing his lips to Bofur's once more. They pulled away and the crinkles of their laugh lines, the lines around each other's eyes...so inviting and made both of them forget where they were.

"Aye, it would make them cross and it wouldn't do for you to be on the recieving end of an angry Bifur or Bombur. So why not make it easy on yourself and curl back up in your spot and let me not have to insult the king?"  
  


Bilbo shifted, "Will I have to wake up to that grin of your's?"

Bofur had to keep his laugh in his belly and said, "that's the best part. Lucky you."

They held each other as they snorted and shook as quietly as possible. Which made it all the more funny. 

After they got themselves under control, they pulled apart, bodies still tingling from the embrace. Bilbo said, "Alright, I suppose if you're so needy, I suppose I could stay."

"Oh thank you Bilbo." Bofur said in an overly pleased tone and relieved sigh.

"You." Bilbo rolled his eyes at the theatrics and shoved his friend's shoulder. They looked at each other and only then did they notice the sudden blue glow shining below them.

 


	9. Safe and Trustworthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a relative short chapter. More a bridge like a second movie in a trilogy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing only up to the second movie...well, certain parts....and I hope that it'll work out. Let me know in comments goods and betters please? I always appreciate feedback darlings ^^ I hope you enjoy!

They were safe, for now. After the fiasco with the goblins, and the orcs, any safety for even a moment was wonderful.

They were at camp that night. More jovial than they'd been in a long while. Near death, soaring through the clouds, Thorin's acceptance of Bilbo and Bilbo saving their king brought hope, and in the case of a particular hobbit, relief. No more doubting himself and no more being the odd one out in his companions company. As he sat with laughing, feasting on recently caught deer, happy and worn dwarves, he did not fail to notice the one dwarf in a silly hat who offered him relieved and happy smiles whenever their eyes could meet across the fire. Thorin, Dwalin, Kili and Fili had monopolized Bilbo's attention since they'd been able to bunk down.  Offering the hobbit extra shares of meat and even managing some wine Nori had managed to keep hidden in a third inner pocket as part of the celebration.

Bilbo's back stung from all the black slaps and the ribs hurt from the tight hugs he'd gotten from every single dwarf. A mild blush formed on his cheeks as phantom sensations of a quick squeeze to his left cheek crossed his mind. Bofur.

 

Bofur was relieved. Now Bilbo could rest easy not having Thorin's bad attitude up his ass every moment and finally having found his courage, and of course the final acknowledgement of his feelings all did Bofur's own well being good. Shame he couldn't have the halfling cuddled with him now, but with all the happiness tonight, he couldn't find himself too regretful.

 

Later that night, when all had gone quiet, no words were needed as they pulled their rolls together.

"You are crazy."

"Am I?"

"Aye. My crazy brave little hobbit."

"Mmm...and my silly, perverted dwarf."

They chuckled and snorted as they laid together, holding one another close, listening to each other's breathing.


	10. Hey...none of that now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Bofur get to show their love to each other or at least begin to. This will be a teaser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think?

They have gotten out of Mirkwood because of Bilbo and his cleverness. Bofur was glad for it. For Bilbo's cleverness because he could be the smartest one out of them, and for the escape getting them closer to the mountain. He had a heart attack when they'd been captured and couldn't find the halfling. After a few weeks of traveling together with held hands (which no one mentioned, though the winks and nudges from his family and best friend were good enough) and close proximity with the occasional sneaked kisses. They'd built up their trust and affection for one another and now they even had a place to stay. Granted it was not grand, and they did have to climb out of a toilet, and Bilbo was shaking like a damn leaf...he'd been sick since before they'd gotten into Lake Town, but now he was sniffling something fierce. Got him a nice warm cup and even forced his mittens on him so those stinging red hands would have something to keep them warm.

"I'll need you warmed up for later." Bofur whispered to him while they sat beside Bard's fire.

"Is that so?" Bilbo asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Aye," Bofur leaned in closer, "not a fan of cold hands." He allowed himself a laugh at Bilbo's sputtering and spitting up of his drink.

"Bofur, we're a guest in someone's house and in case you haven't notice, it isn't exactly _private_." Bilbo whispered harshly and darted his eyes around the room at all the weary dwarves not paying them mind.

"I know, but we're going to the mountain tomorrow. For all I know, we could be dead come last light of Durin's Day. Don't fancy being burnt alive, but I know it could be what happens. I don't want to leave this world with regrets after all." The tiny body against his tensed, he could feel it against his shoulder. Had Bilbo honestly forgotten about the dragon and the possible death that could incur? Or was it the simple suggestion of making love that had him squeak?

"When you put it so...pointedly. I suppose you've a point." Bilbo coughed and turned his curly topped head to Bofur, "Though, I am a bit apprehensive I admit," damn it, he didn't want to constantly resemble a tomato but this would be new for both of them and it wasn't as if he'd made love in such a long time. But there was an ever looming threat over their heads and Bofur was the one he was closest to in such a long time.

"Don't worry Bilbo, I'll take care of you. If you don't want to though, I understand. I want you to feel safe with me so whatever you decide will be fine." Bofur kissed his cheek and then wrapped his arms around his hobbit.

 

And that is what caused them to be there now in the higher floor of the house in their own nook. At any time, one of Bard's children, or one of their company, or even their host himself, could come in search of them and they had to be quiet and quick. So Bilbo had thought. But Bofur was taking his time. Kissing him so fully, undressing him and kissing his neck! That made him tremble and Bofur nuzzled his ear,

"Don't worry love, I'm going to make this good for you. Don't be nervous." He whispered and the words tickled into Bilbo's ear and made him shutter. He clenched at the now open shirt's sides, debating with himself to let them fall open and thus invite Bofur's hands to touch him, or keep his form a mystery out of shyness. What would the dwarf think of such a plump, small hobbit body? At that moment Bofur returned those tickling mustache kisses to their place against Bilbo's lips with a content hum, large hands then went to his clenched hands. Careful to keep his body off of Bilbo's, Bofur leaned his top half, while kneeling next to him. Sweet Bilbo, trembling. 

"Do you want this Bilbo?" He asked after another kiss. He hadn't made to move the hobbit's hands yet, waiting to hear it from Bilbo first. "Have you changed your mind?"

Bilbo immediately shook his head and lifted his head to kiss Bofur, "No! Please, continue. I'm just...nervous. I've not done this in a long time. And...you're a dwarf so I'm unsure of whether I will live to your expectations..."

"Oi, what's this talk then? What's happened to my brave, sweet little king saver? You, Mr.Baggins, are adorable and quite desirable. You're soft," he kissed his neck again, "and warm," he rubbed his thumbs along Bilbo's now loosening fingers, "and best of all, you're a kind, clever fellow with much bravery in you. I would be insane not to want you." Bofur pulled away to look into Bilbo's now lidded, yet still worried gaze.

"Bofur...you are truly a gift if ever I could ask for one." He lifted his left hand and twisted it to catch Bofur's fingers in his and brought it to his mouth for a quick brush of his lips to his dwarf's knuckles. Mind made up, Bilbo sat up and removed his shirt and vest and tossed them aside (though not too far to not be grabbed in a moment). His arms twitched, arms itching to cross over his body now noticing both the hunger in his gentle dwarf's face and the extra chill in the wooden house. Creaks and groans of shabby wood filled the space with each gust or any movement of their companions downstairs who were either resting with their full stomachs of beers and foods or talking of tomorrow and still celebrating what with the Master of Lake Town finding out about their presence and then bestowing his blessings upon them. And that is when Bofur made the suggestion that they should find their own corner to celebrate in while everyone was distracted.


	11. Making Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Figured I'd make it easy for you to find the chapter :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you guys like it. I've toyed with this for a while now and it has been a while since I've written smutish stuff like this. Let me know what you think? It is a mixture of shit I made up as I went AND stuff I wrote down weeks ago. So, some of it is a bit sped up and choppy. I might rewrite this. Let me know what you think though?

Bilbo still looked rather _caught_ , but he relaxed enough against the furs that'd been laid beneath him. Thick fluff formed against his bare back and on the underside of the arms he managed to keep by his side as Bofur leaned back over him.

"Oh Bilbo..." He swooped in and kissed him again, thought the burn of that facial hair was a bit rough for the delicate skin of the halfling. It burned, yet his lips tingled and his risen body temperature helped fight the cold. The icy air was doing its best to creep through crevices and avoid the fires, thus Bilbo and Bofur's hide-a-way was chillier than down at the party (which by the sounds of it, had rekindled, with actual broken plates this time). Callouses and worn palms ran along the hairless chest and stomach in careful up and downs to the line of his trousers back to his chest bone. From his mouth, he went to kiss his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and then he went to his ears. All this time Bilbo managed to keep his breath even with Bofur's tender movements, not allowing too much reaction, but the gasp that past his lips.

Faint aromas of fowl, fish with lemon, breads and beer wafted into the hobbit's nose so much so, he began to wonder whether anything would be left for he and Bofur or would they go to the door tomorrow with empty bellies? With the way Bofur's hands rubbed against his skin, the tracing of a tongue against the point of his ear he would gladly deal with an empty belly to be here instead. That was different and tickled, and the wetness against that typically ignored part of his body made Bilbo sigh and gasp with the oddly delightful sensation it created. _This_ was nice. Simple Bofur. It dragged on and on. Bofur's hands running up and down in the easiest of caresses, his persistent mouth loving his ear. No rush, no focus, just a constant touch and light friction.

"May I?" Bofur broke the bubble that had formed around them. Bofur had to keep himself in check, slow and steady, easy with Bilbo. And Mahal it was wonderful so far, but maybe it would suit them if he could get Bilbo out of his clothes. Bofur could hardly be blamed for the hope that clenched his muscles as he hooked his thumbs in the pant line of Bilbo's trousers. Without the suspenders, it would only take him a moment to tug them down the halfling's legs.

"Certainly." And just like with his shirt and vest, Bilbo helped remove his pants. My oh my he was moving much more fast than he could ever anticipate living in the Shire and all.

"I thought you'd be a be more...reluctant." Bofur admitted quietly as he curved each pant leg past large feet.

Breathy laughter met the dwarf's confusion "I admit I am _nervous_. It is taking every ounce of my will power not to get up and run, but I want this Bofur. To be with you. To try. I trust you not to break me." Bilbo took note of the fur against his nude rear end. Truly bared for the first time in front of another in such a long time. Would Bofur like him? Would he like Bofur? He was handsome and Bilbo knew he wasn't bad himself, but what about the acts themselves? Would they _fit_?

"I hope not. I don't think Thorin or the rest of the lads would be too pleased if I made our burglar have to limp his way through Erebor." A small fist punched him in the shoulder as they snickered with each other. "I promise not to break you Bilbo."

"Good, I quite value my walk as it is, straight."  They had to shush each other so as to prevent their laughter carrying.

After they wiped their tears and the tension relieved itself and Bofur reached to remove his hat and toss it aside where Bilbo's clothes were.

"You look...very nice like this Bofur." Bilbo's hand traveled to Bofur's hair on it's own accord. The braids had been undone back in the river and the dwarf hadn't bothered to put them back up. Long tresses, now dry and free from the confines of his hat, began slipping past his shoulders few strands at a time and his bangs fell like a thin curtain near his face.

"You're making me blush." Bofur teased, but so far, neither was repulsed. "Just wait until I get my pants off." Bilbo squeaked and gave a light swat to his shoulder.

"Bilbo...may I show you something that I learned while living with man folk in the Blue Mountains?"

"Something from that _first_ lady?" A raised eyebrow playfully arched.

Bofur took the hand that wasn't twirling his hair and brought it to his mouth. "Oh aye. Clever mouth remember." He pulled those non-dwarf like fingers into his mouth. The traces of sweat, grit, and bland taste of skin crossed Bofur's tongue as he gave a swirl and suck to the few digits in his mouth.

Bilbo inhaled through his nose and swallowed, "I can _feel_ that."

"Dwarves," Bofur said after freeing his mouth, Bilbo could feel the saliva cooling on his fingers, "don't usually use their mouths for more than kissing in bed. We don't usually..." he darted his eyes down, "But I've learned, and practiced and I'd like to have a chance to show you?" Tickles in Bofur's chest at Bilbo's breathy noise and a nod had him actually whoop in surprised excitement. 

Bilbo was shy, Bofur could sense it in those small muscles (grown a little bit since their adventure began) as he trailed his mouth and hands downward, not wasting time with subtlety when he'd already received permission. They've waited a long time as it was to come together. Bofur glanced up and Bilbo glanced away; he would be able to change that. Quickly his hands found the semi-taunt flesh of Bilbo's member and with no warning, gripped it in his large miner's hand.

"Ah!" Startled by his own reaction, Bilbo pressed his hand to his mouth. Dry, and a bit rough at first, Bofur pumped up and down steady and slow. Using the slick that Bilbo's member began to leak for lubricant to smooth the movements. "mmm"

"Lovely Bilbo. Very lovely." The dwarf's mouth watered as he stared at the now stilled, tensed, hobbit covering his face and mouth, and looking away while muffled sounds reached his ears. At one point, Bilbo's hand reached down to halt his motions,

"It's...so much..."

"Too much?"

"...no...I...don't think so." He lifted his hand and put it back to his face, allowing the dwarf to continue working until Bilbo began to relax a bit and now fully stiff. That is when he pulled that plump mouthful, red and warm past his mouth in a delicate suck.

"MMMM!" Came the muffled reply as Bofur sucked a few times in a pattern of light then harder before swirling his tongue round the head, between the slit.

Bilbo didn't intend to squirm quite so much, or even jut his hips up when his companion began darting his tongue underneath to the vein from root to tip. That could not taste good could it? He could never say he actually _tasted_ seed, but gossip round the Shire from some of the ladies suggested this act was not one they were fond of. Yet here was Bofur, seemingly to be _loving_ this non-dwarvish (by his own admission) act. Asked to do this to him. Practiced. But oh, the blood swirled under his skin, pulsed under that wet muscle, that suckling mouth, the kisses applied to his thighs when Bofur pulled off for air.

It was fast, new, messy with all the pleasure leaking from him and the coating of Bofur's mouth trailing down to his public hair. It was embarrassing, but the sensations left little in his fogged brain to worry on what he tasted like, or whether he was moving to much. All that he could concentrate on, was Bofur.

Bofur sighed when he pulled off, and waited until a bit of confusion had Bilbo peek at him from under his hands at being left damp and unsatisfied. Climbing up the hobbit's body, Bofur took each hand and wrapped them into his hair as he kissed Bilbo (who sputtered against the taste of his own seed for a moment. It was too salty, odd at first. Not overly grand as he would've expected from Bofur's enthusiasm, but allowed himself to trust and relax into it. It wasn't grotesque) and said, "Fancy moving to something else?"

"Yes!" Bilbo's eyes widened at his own yelp, but that soft, mustached smile and wink had him grin back. 

Bofur pulled away to undo his pants, having to stand up to deal with all the layers. Clicks and rattles of belts and metal bits resonated in the small room. As did the resounding thud of fabric.  Reaching into a pocket, he produced a tiny green glass bottle.

"Got this from Oin." Bofur said, "got my hopes up a while back in Rivendell. Been carrying this since." He took the time to pop the cork and a scentless liquid poured out onto his fingers while leering at his hobbit. Who self consciously curled into himself at Bofur's larger size. His fingers were large already, and seeing his cock, full and flushed like his cheek had him swallow. It was _not_ monstrous but it was not exactly typical hobbit like. So, furred, muscled, calloused, scarred, ruggedly handsome this other man was. Stunning as intimidating.

It might've not been clever but he couldn't help it with Bilbo staring at him, "Like the view?"

Smug, stupidly grinning dwarf. "Perhaps..." he gave a once over with his own eyes, temporarily forgetting he was meant to be awkward at all. Bofur was taking that away piece by piece. "Without the hat...and yes, the lack of pants has improved the scenery."

Bofur came to lay on top of Bilbo, kissing him before laying his furred body against the squish of Bilbo's chest and belly.  "I'm glad. Now love, this might be a bit cold, been in my pocket for a while and my fingers can only warm it up so much."

___

Prepared, wet and stretched, relaxed, Bilbo felt Bofur enter him. Tediously filled to the hilt carefully, and with a shared groan. After, they began to start their easy rhythm, in and out. So close together they were, so connected.

Bilbo's fist shoved past his teeth, stung as he bit down. He could not....it was too embaressesing to make noise with everyone so nearby, with Bofur _inside_ him. No noise at all. Hobbits were, shame it was, prudish. He'd hoped it would've past out of _his_ one's system. He wasn't in the shire, no kin to judge him. As private as dwarves were, they also were relaxed in terms of bed sport. As long as it was between consenting adults, they didn't care. They were adventerous and open about sex. Bofur wanted him to be a _bit_ quiet, but not this much.

And here was his hobbit _hiding_ from him. He wanted to experience _all_ Bilbo had in him. After an angled thrust that loosened Bilbo's jaw, Bofur clasped his hand around a slender wrist and carefully pulled the tiny paw from teeth. Bloody spots, painful and white tears of flesh around those bites.

"Hey, none of that now."

"Oh Bofur, don't." Bilbo pleaded turning his face into the pillow.

"Come on Bilbo, I know I said we should be quiet, but you don't have to be this quiet. Let me hear that beautiful voice of your's."

"N...no..it's embarrassing."

"Bilbo," Bofur thrusted again, "does it feel good?"

"..." Another thrust "Yes!"

"Then why is it embarrassing to let me know that? How is it embarrassing to know that I adore each tiny squeak, each yelp, each laugh, each word that you utter? So, for me, right now, don't be so shy? Damn the people downstairs, shout for me, say my name, whatever will make you happy, just please, don't hide it from me."

Bilbo didn't say anything at first, just lay there clenching his teeth, absorbing Bofur's words, feeling his thrusts in, out, angled.

The first noises came out tiny, muted. Affirmative yelps and pants when it felt particularly jarring. He'd turned his face away but Bofur with his finger tips, brushed damp curls away so he could see at least the profile of Bilbo's beautiful face.

"That's it...mmm...that's it Bilbo." He leaned down and kissed the hobbit's temple. The light mm's and ah's that grew longer and louder as time past kept the dwarf spurred. Easy but firm and with purposeful jerks back and forth in and out of the quietly mewling hobbit.

Coaxing a full bodied shutter, a gaping mouth, glazed eyes, and more importantly...the sounds. For his own part, he growled and groaned his responses, peppered between those ticklish kisses against the singular exposed red cheek.

Minutes ticked as their pleasures rose. Bilbo began to turn his face at the same time Bofur leaned down kiss him on the lips, tilted his head to aim. Mouthful of mustache, that's what Bilbo Baggins hates. At flailed hand swating the offending hair away Bofur laughed.  Proper belly shaking laugh that vibrated through him into Bilbo. And before the indignation spark and break the mood, Bofur reclaimed the hobbit's lips and reached between their bodies until...

"AH!" _That_ is what he liked to hear.

"Ah! Bofur!" Bilbo tossed his head back and forth as his dwarf pumped up and down along his plump shaft. The poor hobbit, so overwhelmed. Face exposed, little noises and yelps, the floor boards under creaking and thudding.

"So beautiful you are Bilbo. So good and beautiful like this. Are you close? I'll bet you are. Ready to show me the fruits of my labor? Can't wait for it Bilbo. I'm eager to see it. Come on."

Bilbo lasted only for a minute or two after; legs clamping around Bofur's waist as he created a mess against his and Bofur's stomachs. Shaking, and even a long, high pitch yell. Falling back, Bilbo allowed Bofur to continue his thrust until he too released in a deep growl. Warm seed filling Bilbo's entrance and Bofur too fell down, minding not to fall onto his smaller lover.

Panting, cooling, they laid on the furs side by side in afterglow.

"Love you Bilbo."

"Love you Bofur."

 

 

 

 


	12. Where Are We Going?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, wrapping things in a bow. Perhaps I will do a sequel when the final film comes out. It leaves on a simple note sticking with the cannon that Bilbo and Bofur are split up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading darlings. I really hope that you enjoyed. I had fun writing this. It is one of my favorite OTPs at this point in time that I actual feel comfortable writing. I wish you all the best and many thanks for the kudos, comments, bookmarks. You all made me feel awesome and I'm glad I could offer something in exchange. So here you have it, the final chapter of Tinkers and Toymakers.

They had to use whatever rags and bits they could find to clean their mess and get dressed (which was made all the more difficult when Bofur kept pulling Bilbo close for kisses and Bilbo kept tugging on those unbraided strands) for while they both laid in a blissful afterglow for a while, the party was _still_ lively. Food and beer still remaining for even stuffed dwarves to push into their already full stomachs, music, words, and for either hobbit or dwarf, it would be a missed opportunity when the night had a few hours remaining to it. Bofur said as much as he buttoned Bilbo's vest for him, and Bilbo helped buckle the large belt around Bofur's waist.

After checking to ensure they each looked presentable despite the bruised lips, messed hair, and euphoric glaze in their eyes naturally. With a final _long_ hug, they descended the stairs from their hide away down into the throng of their companions.

The applauded started by Nori made them both jump though Bofur laughed first and pulled a sheepish hobbit against his side as the hoots and winks and shoves happened. At least two "bout times" floated out there and even Bilbo let out a nervous chuckle.

"Relax love, they tease you because you're one of us." Bofur said into his ear.

Nori clapped his hands on both of their shoulders and said, "Good for you lads!" And in a loud whisper nudged Bofur and said, "Awful cute one you got yourself Bofur."

Even Thorin seemed happy for them with a tip of his mug and the dread of tomorrow washed away.

____

In the boat, Bilbo held onto the vain hope that he'd see that silly hat pop out from the crowd and Bofur would fly onto the boat. They had slept and Thorin, Balin and Dwalin had crowded around the hobbit to prep him for the task at hand leaving him no chance to even _see_ more than Bofur sleeping under the table as he was being led away to brace him.

"But what about Bofur?" He asked.

"The others will wake him." Thorin said simply.

 

Bofur for his part, as relieved as he was to not be left alone on the pier, felt angry. They _left_ him? Right under the table? He knew he was drunk and probably kept asking for a few more minutes, but they hadn't thought to push forward? And they took Bilbo with them without _him_ there? Oh that Thorin! And Nori! And his brother and cousin!

Too late now. If they got back... _oh_...Oh...

A sick prince, Bilbo facing the wrath of a dragon while he was left alone? _How_ could it get worse?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Eventually I hope to have this story as part of a collection of snippets. One of them will be about that first lady Bofur made love to :3


End file.
